


Rain, Rain, stay all day

by valantha



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pining, Vaguely mid-season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:10:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2221794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valantha/pseuds/valantha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitzsimmons only has one umbrella and Fitz pines – a lot – over Simmons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain, Rain, stay all day

It was raining – nay _deluging_ , no a gentle Scottish rain this – and they only had the one S.H.I.E.L.D.-emblazoned umbrella packed away in the Short Bus. And _of course_ the contact’s lab was halfway across campus from the Visitor's parking structure.

Fitz gallantly offered to hold the umbrella and Simmons tucked herself in close to him. As they trudged across the unfamiliar campus, the feel of the situation was quite familiar – from their years in Boston and his plague of umbrella-stealing gremlins – but also different, _heightened_.

He could feel the warmth roll off of Simmons’ shoulder, a comforting contrast to the cold mountain drencher. The sun-kissed strawberry smell of her shampoo battled and defeated the wet, clean-yet-muddy smell of the rain and Fitz longed to bury his nose – and fingers – in her fragrant, silky, chestnut locks. He glanced over at the cute little hairs about her ears, frizzing in the humidity – such a change from the extreme dryness of The Bus – and longed to smooth them down for her.

On the topic of longings, oh, how he yearned to kiss the milky hollow of her throat, up the smoothly perfect conic section of her mandible, to her delectable earlobe where he’d lap at the that little earring – pretty and feminine, but small enough to not interfere with or be a hazard during any experiment – before venturing over to her lips. Her guileless pink lips – sometimes chapped from thinking too hard, once in Sci-Ops gnawed bloody out of frustration and anxiety – currently pursed in her adorable (and slightly scary) ‘thinking face’.

But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t risk changing their relationship – Simmons’ friendship was his lodestone, his compass, his due north in the chaotic sea of life. He couldn’t risk a geomagnetic field reversal. It could be _catastrophic_.

So, instead, he will guiltily steal what he could get out of innocent interactions, and let his brilliant mind envision the rest. It was better this way. Safer.

As the wind changed direction, Fitz angled the umbrella to protect the briefcase Simmons carried and the Top Secret documents it contained as much as possible. The fact that it would also protect Simmons was beside the point. Or so he tried to convince himself.

It was clear from the pooling of the rain on the sidewalks that the civil engineers who designed the campus walkways knew nothing about fluid kinematics. Fitz wound their way though the puddles – far more out of concern for Jemma’s ‘cute shoes’ – her words, not his – than his own well-worn trainers.

They finally made it to the Astrobiology building and under the awning. With bizarre – illogical – reluctance Fitz closed the umbrella, shaking the rain off away from Simmons. A few rebellious droplets speckled her trousers, and one particularly recalcitrant drop domed upon Simmons’ wrist, an alabaster patch of wrist – where she used to wear her grandmother’s mother-of-pearl wristwatch but she’d gotten out of the habit on the Bus – to be more precise. Fitz wanted to brush the droplet off with his thumb, but restrained himself. That would be pushing the bounds of innocent interaction.

As Fitz studied Simmons, he noted she was no longer close enough to smell her or feel her warmth and Fitz cruelly crushed his sense of disappointment. Simmons was his best friend and that was it. He had no right to feel possessive of her body heat and shampoo-odor.

"So, where to?" Simmons asked promptingly.

Fitz double checked the contact’s room number and resolutely focused his thoughts on the mission. No time for pining. Now… 


End file.
